


and nothing's wrong when nothing's true

by Trojie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 03, Sex Toys, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe we're both consenting adults who need to blow off a little steam sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and nothing's wrong when nothing's true

**Author's Note:**

> Because I think Sam and Jo have something in common. Because I wanted both of them to have something Dean couldn't horn in on. Because I wanted them both to have something loving and safe and without lies threaded through it. 
> 
> Title from 'Buzzcut Season' by Lorde.

Dean's catting around again, yet another bucket-list fantasy Sam can't be bothered keeping track of, and he's sick and tired of waiting in the car and watching silhouettes and pretending he's okay with it, so he's having a drink. Just one drink, in a bar close enough that if something goes wrong he can get to Dean fast, but it's a point. He's taking a weak, sad little stand.

'Hey stranger,' says a too-familiar voice behind him. Sam's heart sinks even lower as he turns on his barstool.

'Hey, Jo,' he says. 

***

It's three beers later when Jo leans on the bar and looks into Sam's eyes, and says, 'So, d'you wanna get out of here?' in _that_ way.

'Dean ...' Sam starts lamely, because his brother is, like always, the first thing that comes to mind, and Jo rolls her eyes. Sam's not smooth, not with people he cares about.

'Doesn't give a shit where you are right now,' Jo finishes for him. She picks up Sam's beer and drinks the last swallow for him. 'Guessing he's a bit distracted, huh? Guessing that's why you're here alone?'

Sam doesn't deny it. Can't. Even though that wasn't the question he was going to ask her. He opens his mouth to try again. 'I mean, you-'

She shakes her head, cutting him off. She knows what he means, what he's thinking. 

'Like you can say anything, anyway,' Jo says. Her expression is a little too knowing for Sam's liking. 'I'm not judging,' she says. 'I'm just saying, maybe we understand each other a little. Maybe we're both consenting adults who need to blow off a little steam sometimes. Like now.'

She stretches, arms over her head, and ruffles her hair free of its loose ponytail on the way back down. It's an honest offer, Sam can read that much, and it's been he doesn't even know how long since he's been with someone. He's tired and sad and angry and yeah, he does need to blow off a little steam.

'Gonna have to be your place,' he says, a little sheepishly. 'I was planning on spending the night in the car.'

'The Impala?' Jo asks, and there's a spark of interest that makes Sam groan internally because he knows from (admittedly infrequent) experience that car sex is a logistical nightmare that ends in bruises and cramp.

Jo must read that in his expression though because she says 'maybe next time. For now, I've got a room round the corner. C'mon.'

***

Jo falls backwards on the mattress, laughing and scrabbling to yank Sam's shirt over his head. He topples after her, scrabbling for purchase in the messy sheets so he doesn't crush her on his way down with his shirt blinding him. Managing to prop himself up, he reaches for her bra strap only to realise he's put his hand on something in the bedclothes. He pulls out a lime-green vibrator, and blinks.

'What?' Jo asks, sitting up and reaching for it. 'It does the job, doesn't ask questions about why I'm in town ...' Sam evades her hands and keeps inspecting it. She grins wickedly and asks, 'Why? Are you feeling threatened?'

'By this?' Sam puts it on the bedside table. 'Not really.' He slides his hands down her body until he finds a concealed sheath and pulls out one of her knives. 'This, maybe.'

'Don't you trust me?'

'You're a hunter,' says Sam, putting that on the bedside table too. 'Of course I don't.'

Her face lights up, which is why he said it, but it's a lie. He'd trust Jo with his life. He keeps up the fake of frisking her, pulling her clothes off and finding a few more knives while she wriggles, until he can ease himself down between her thighs, kiss down her belly -

'Well, aren't you a gentleman,' Jo laughs, poking him in the shoulder with a toe. 'You haven't even got your jeans off yet.'

Sam rolls his eyes, but does get up and undo his belt, makes a little show of shucking his jeans and underwear so that he can watch her watch him. 'Better?'

'I'm officially banning you from pants in future,' she says, and he snorts and ducks back down to find out what she tastes like.

Sam loves this. Always did. It's application of a learned skill, it's something he can be good at and he's pretty sure he is, like listening to noises and feeling the way someone will pull left or right, up or down, to get you to pay attention to some particular spot or maybe to get you to let up on another one. Sam likes getting someone to fall apart under him. 

Jo likes his fingers rubbing just above her clit or his tongue working below it, glancing blows only - the way she squirms makes him guess she doesn't want him working the hot little nub too hard, that maybe it's other buttons she'd rather he pushed, so he slurps at his fingers and starts to push the tips of them inside her instead.

She wrenches her shoulders off the bed long enough to grab him by the hair and drag him over her to kiss his sticky, wet mouth, tasting like gunmetal and girl. He thanks God for the length of his arms, because he's not ready to pull free of how she feels inside. 'You gonna fuck me?' she asks, knees practically flat to the bed, she's so limber and he knows from how the wetness is riding around his knuckles and smearing his wrist where it's flattened against her that she's ready for him. 

But. 

'If you got a condom, sure,' Sam has to say. He keeps working his fingers, kneeling between her thighs and his dick hanging heavy and ready and probably not gonna get what it wants. 'Cos I don't, and I got bled on by like five different people just this week.' _And I'm not exactly ready for fatherhood_ he doesn't add. That's another thing she won't need him to say.

'Dammit,' Jo pants, biting her lip. 'I don't.' She's riding his hand pretty hard, pretty fast now, and Sam doesn't like leaving a girl hanging. 

'S'okay,' he says, growling it into her shoulder, trying to steady himself while he gropes for the bedside table. Amongst the mess of her knives and makeup and his wallet and gun he finds what he's looking for, brings it down to slick it against the soft place between her legs, to nudge it in where his fingers are spreading her wide. 

Her eyes slam open, she chokes on her next breath. 'Jesus _fuck_ ,' she groans. 'Sam, are you fucking serious?'

'You said it before,' he huffs, grinning at her. 'It does the job.'

'Holy shit,' she says, forearm over her eyes and arching into the smooth press of silicone into her. 'Ohhhhhh, yeah, okay, okay, that's - do that again,' she orders him, and Sam's only too happy to oblige. He puddles down into the bedspread, leaning his head on her belly so he can watch and keep her still as he works the vibrator in and out. There's an art to this too, same as before - it's angles and pressure and speed, and Sam can ace this. Jo cards her fingers distractedly through his hair, sharp little threads of only-just-pain that make him promise himself that he's never going anywhere without a goddamn condom ever again because her nails would feel _so good_ scoring down his back while he was balls-deep in her. 

She writhes as much as she can with the weight of him on her, panting and swearing. 'Will you just - fuck, Sam, c'mon, I can't -'

He flicks the vibrator on and the depth of her moan is electric, and the way she clenches around the toy and his hand and the way she shakes, it's addictive. She comes wet and noisy, and he doesn't even realise how hard he's humping the bed until she pushes him away and folds over onto her side to pull the vibrator out of his hand. 

'What d'you need?' she asks, and he can't help but look at the stupid green fake dick in her hand. 

Shit, no. Not - 'Gimme your hand,' he says roughly before she can get any funny ideas. She drops the vibrator and curls up close to him, and it barely takes more than a couple of strokes before he's making just as much of a mess as she did. 

'Thanks,' she says later, half asleep from the bed while he's yanking his boots on. 

'You too,' Sam says, shoving his gun back in his waistband. He reaches over to kiss her again and ruffle her hair, which is already kinda ruined. 'Any time.'

**Author's Note:**

> I have material for a second chapter but I'm on the fence about whether or not to finish it. Anyone have a preference?


End file.
